


Starting a Fire

by katawa_shoujos_bitch



Category: Katawa Shoujo
Genre: F/F, Misha's POV, big gay, big sad, misha centric, misha gets a girlfriend
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-02-23 19:45:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18708757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katawa_shoujos_bitch/pseuds/katawa_shoujos_bitch
Summary: (Occurs post-Shizune route)Left by her best friends, Misha knows it's finally time for her to move on. Move on from Yamaku, move on from Shizune. Soon she'll go to college, and--well, who knows? She still plans to be a sign language teacher.But were any of her problems resolved? Not really.Misha copes with the fact that she is alive. And then, maybe, something changes...





	1. Chapter 1

My hands have translated the world.

I’ve learned a new language with them. I’ve made my closest friend in the world with them. They’ve been my speech. My ears.

Watching Shicchan and Hicchan’s backs, I can’t help but feel that nothing has been resolved. Nothing has improved or changed for the better. If anything, I feel worse. True that I said to Hicchan that it was okay when he refused to comfort me. I know it was the right choice for him and for me.

But I might have needed it. Maybe.

I notice my hands trembling. It’s unsettling to me. I hate it when my hands are unsteady. It’s like losing balance. Like the one constant of my life is giving way. Giving way to nothingness.

No, though, I’m still standing. I feel weak and worthless, but I’m alive no less.

I shake my head until it is cleared of the urge to tack on an “unfortunately”. I’m tired of thinking that way. It hurts my head, it hurts my heart. It makes me guilty. I’m tired of wishing I was dead. I’m not going to die anytime soon, so it’s a waste of energy anyway.

Shicchan has disappeared over the horizon with Hicchan. It hurts to see them go. It hurts even more to see them go together.

It hurts.

Still, I know they won’t be together for much longer. Hicchan will go back home, and live with his parents while he attends college. Shicchan will go to school much farther down in southern Japan, with hopes of becoming a business woman.

Where will I go?

Well, I know that. I have a college that accepted me. But it starts a couple weeks later than most. I have nowhere to go. Bitterly, I acknowledge to myself that going back to live with my parents isn’t an option.

Yamaku reluctantly agreed to let me stay here over the break after I begged. A teacher (who I didn’t even know—I was shocked by her kindness) said that since some kids need to stay anyway to retake tests and improve their grades. After some convincing, the faculty agreed to keep me registered as a student for the month long break. Still, I’ll need to leave right when classes begin again, since at that point they will no longer have dorms available for me. At that point, I’ll have nowhere, and still a week left before my university allows students to move in.

Well, I do have a place to stay. This was a complete stroke of luck—I’d been talking to Hicchan about the problem and Lilly happened to be nearby. I learned that she had no issues with me (despite her relationship with Shicchan) when she told me that I could stay at her family’s summer home for a week. I tried to argue, but she said that it would cost neither of us a penny. With no reason to decline, I accepted.

I’m eternally grateful to have anywhere to go, but, still, it’ll be lonely. I don’t think I’ll have anyone to talk to at Yamaku, and the summer home is quite literally in the middle of nowhere. I don’t have many other choices, though. I’m stuck with this plan.

 

The last of the students file out of the school. I watch through the window of the dorm that will be mine for only one more month. It’s dreary. I’m put off by the bright sun—it feels wrong. It feels like it’s mocking me.

I look away from the window.

My face contorts as I look across my room. Silently, I thank the general universe that I was never confronted with a situation where I’d had to invite Shicchan or Hicchan over. If they’d seen this place, I’d never have heard the end of it. Hicchan, at least, is perceptive enough to figure out that this is not a normal girl’s room. At least not in the traditional sense.

I gaze across the barren place. There is no telling of my personality in this place. A bookshelf, yes, but no books on it except three textbooks. Come to think of it, I’ll need to return those soon. My schooling at Yamaku is over, after all. Below the textbooks, there’s a sleek, ornate knife. The handle is decorated with flowery designs of purple and pink. The blade is sharpened perfectly. I use it to cook, of course, and for nothing else.

The desk is covered in unfinished papers. Homework, things drawn or written on whims—every one of them abandoned halfway. Sometimes less than halfway. I don’t have the heart to look at any of them, but I can’t bear to throw them away. But I suppose I won’t have any option by the end of the month. It’s not like I’m going to pack up all my things.

I sigh. It’s a useless thing to do. No one hears, or sees. I check the clock. The time is approaching six o’clock. It is an option to wait a good few hours before going to sleep. I consider the things I could do in that time. I could read. I could write. I could look through my papers, decide on what to toss and what to keep. I could go for a walk around town. Alone. I could get some food. Alone.

I close my eyes. Yes, I do have quite a few options.

I lay myself down on my bed. It feels stiff and unwelcoming. In time, I will fall asleep. In time, I will fade. In time, I will be okay.

It takes a lot of willpower not to scoff out loud. I really should stop lying to myself.

 

 

Weeks pass. Exactly three weeks. I confess that I’ve been counting the days. I seldom leave my room. There isn’t much to do, anyway. I go to the Shanghai or the convenience store occasionally, but that’s about it. It’s cold outside. It’s cold inside. I thought I wasn’t eating enough. But that wasn’t it. I shiver all the time. My eyes always feel glazed, unfocused. My chest feels empty and dark. I find myself getting up in the middle of the night, driven by some unexplained and sudden panic, only to stand aimless in the darkness, swaying slightly.

Then again, this is nothing new.

I praise the absence of Shicchan. I couldn’t bear it if she saw me like this. Her presence, I know, would make me feel happier, but it’s worth it if she doesn’t need to witness my misery. I wonder if she’s happy right now. Back with her family.

It occurs to me that I probably could have stayed with her until I could move into my new school.

Well, I could have. But that wasn’t really an option. Not in any real sense.

I grimace. The room is becoming suffocating. Without classes or the student council or Shicchan, I’ve done little to nothing with my time. I have to go somewhere. I have to do something. Anything.

           

I leave the dorm. The sky is cloudy and dark. What time is it? I realize, distantly, I’ve lost track. I take comfort in the darkness, more than I’d like to admit. It’s fairly cold. The chill doesn’t register until I’m halfway into town, and I shiver. It’s probably far too cold to be out in just a sweatshirt and no coat or anything, but I genuinely just can’t be bothered. I am having increasing difficulty caring about my own well-being.

But that’s nothing new, either.

I’m drawn to the convenience store. The fluorescent lights are soul sucking and only add to my chill, despite the store’s heating. A soft tune plays out of the speaker in the corner. Only now do I realize that my hands are numbing with cold. It’s probably not the best sign, but whatever.

I wander the aisles for so long I lose track. I feel glazed, almost confused. I am entirely directionless.

I wander the town. Time becomes meaningless. I got food at the store. I eat it begrudgingly. It tastes like sand. I make a face and toss the empty container. What did I just eat? I don’t know. I don’t think I care. It doesn’t matter.

Why did I go out again? This was a waste of energy. And I have very limited energy, especially nowadays.

I remember back when I first met Shicchan. It was an instant friendship, I didn’t have to worry about it for a second. We were friends. She cares about me. I cared about her.

I might never see her again.

It doesn’t matter, though. I’ve burned all my bridges, at least in my mind. Shicchan and Hicchan are happy together and that’s what matters to me. That’s all that matters to me.

Right?

I said to them that I would die if it meant they could be happy. Did I mean that? Would I really die?

Yes, I think I would. But my reasons are far more selfish than I admitted to Hicchan. Maybe my most genuine moment with him was a lie, too. I’m made out of lies, maybe I am a lie. Who is Misha? The bright, happy, ever-cheerful girl, best friend of Shicchan, student council president? Definitely not. I don’t even have Shicchan anymore. In a way, she was the only genuine part of my personality. Oh, that’s sad.

 

I find my way back to my dorm without remembering walking back. The linear timeline is slowly but surely blurring into a haze. Right now, though, I feel strangely okay—I can’t explain it, but I think somehow my walk got enough air to my brain for it to wake up a bit. It’s late, but this might be the last time in a while I feel any ability to do anything at all. I’ll take advantage of it.

 

I spend the night sorting through my papers. Which are worth holding onto? Which should have been tossed months (or maybe years) ago? All the homework can be thrown away, of course. There are actually a few little scribbles in here that aren’t bad. I suppose I can hold onto these… yes, I’ll keep them.

The sun set hours ago. I smile to myself, looking at the moon through my little window. It’s a full moon, shining brightly in the sky.

With all my papers organized, I set myself down on the bed. For the first time in three weeks, I feel warm. I’ll leave this school in just a week, and then I’ll have a week down at Lilly’s place, and then I can start anew. I think that’s okay with me. The life ahead of me, for once, doesn’t feel desperately bleak.

I want to cry.

Why is this so rare? Why does the world so rarely feel like one I belong in? My happy mood melts away quickly as I feel my eyes glaze over. The moon stares at me. Anger begins to build in my chest. Why did the world abandon me? Why was I given this?

Why does Shicchan abandon me?

Why do her and Hicchan get to be together and I’m alone in a dorm room that shouldn’t even be mine anymore?

Why is this my lot?

I didn’t do anything wrong!

My vision is blurry and feels tinted with red. I close my eyes, guilt suddenly overtaking me. It isn’t Shicchan’s fault. It isn’t anyone’s fault. No, Misha—it isn’t your fault either.

For some reason, I have a hard time believing that one.

Damn. I really am a mess, aren’t I? Should I even bother with all this? Becoming a sign language teacher won’t do much for me if I can’t even keep my thoughts straight through my misery. Am I doomed to feel this way forever? If I am, I don’t think I’m interested in… well, in a week, I could easily… it wouldn’t be difficult…

No. That’s juvenile.

It’s fine.


	2. A Beginning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Misha goes to university. 
> 
> Misha makes two~ very~ interesting~ friends~
> 
> Misha stops being sad for a minute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fuck it we're leaving the indentations in there

                             The week at Lilly’s summer home passes remarkably quickly. I realize, all at once, that it’s already time for me to go to school again. Yes, it’s almost time for a completely new life. Time for everything to change, and so suddenly too.

                I take some of the makeup in the bathroom. I feel a little guilty, but I didn’t bring any of my own, and the darkness under my eyes has grown far too much for me to show up at a new place and meet new people. It’d be quite the first impression. That is not a situation I want to put myself in.

                I lay on a thin layer, then another. After the third, my face looks like that of a happy, healthy person. Well, I look a little paler than usual, but that’s okay. It’s conspicuous enough to get away with.

                Luckily, all my stuff is already packed. One tired morning, I just did it for the sake of having it done. Granted, I’d never unpacked much in the first place, considering how short my time was here. But still. I drag my one bag out the door, dreading the long walk to the train. The sunlight is warm, and it pours onto my face in welcome rays. I tilt my head as if to consume as much of it as I can.

                It’s nice that I’m happy enough today. I’ll need it.

                The walk is almost as awful as I’d feared, but I make it nevertheless. On the bright side, now I won’t be jittery on the train ride. Not as jittery, at least.

 

                The university is broad and seems to encompass miles. The sun is thankfully still shining, and my mood is thankfully still bright. It’s getting warmer as summer approaches, and I grin into the sunlight. Maybe things are okay.

            So, I do have a roommate—but she seems to be entirely absent. Looks like she got here early. The bed that appears to be hers is made, and a single suitcase has already been unpacked in a fashion that made it quite clear she had little to nothing to bring but wanted to look like she did. I can’t say what I have packed is much better.

            I have my clothes (which is also not very many—I’d been wearing mostly the Yamaku uniform for the past three years, after all), the few papers I’d decided to keep, my cell phone, a couple books (which were Shicchan’s, not mine, but she let me have them since she had no more space in her bag), and the gleaming object in the bottom.

            I debate whether to ignore it. I could just leave it in my bag for my entire stay here, or I could, I don’t know, burn it. Flush it. Why did I even bring it?

            In case I needed to use it, of course.

            But I won’t.

            Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the bookshelf on the side that belongs to my roommate. It almost makes me shiver.

            It’s almost completely barren, except for a stack of abandoned papers, some of which look crumpled beyond repair. There’s a stack of three large books that look like textbooks, and on the top, what seems to be a carving of a bird in flight.

            The door opens. Behind it is a girl who I assume to be my roommate. She looks startled at my presence for a moment, but quickly gains her composure.

            Most of her appearance is relatively nondescript, except for her hair, which catches my eye. It looks almost fake, it’s so shiny. With a slight wave it curls under her chin, but it’s long enough to fall past her shoulders. It’s thin hair as well, and I wonder about whether she’s shy about her appearance, because one large lock of hair falls down her face. It looks intentional. It covers the entire bit of skin between her eyebrows as well as much of the bridge of her nose.

            “Oh, hi! I’m Shiina, but you can call me Misha~ Are you the other girl living here?”

            “Y-Yeah. My name’s Amaya Himura. You can just call me Amaya, last names are way too formal… for me…” Her voice is soft, but not timid. I glance at her shelf again.

            “Alright Amaya~! Hey, what’s that up on your—“

            Her eyes immediately fill with so much fury I think they’re about to turn red. “That’s my bird. Don’t look at it.”

            “O-Okay.” I can feel my persona faltering. Damn. I haven’t had to do this in a while, I think I’m losing my skill. “Well…” I remember the last time I pulled in someone with the hopes of befriending them. That was Hicchan, a long almost-two-years ago. And back then, I’d had the student council to lean on. I had something to invite him to. Amaya, though, I have nothing to say to. ‘What classes do you have?’ is too lame, and she doesn’t seem to be keen on small talk. I could go with something a bit heavier, but I did just meet her after all.

            Still. My eyes flicker to the last item on her shelf. I think we may have something in common.

            She notices me looking and her cheeks flush red. “N-No, I, look, I was hoping I’d get a chance to, uh… it’s not what it looks like…”

            That’s exactly what I would say. So I just nod. I wouldn’t want to be pressed further. Neither would Amaya, based on her expression. I wonder about the bird.

            “So…” To my surprise, it’s Amaya who speaks first. “What… high school did you go to?”

            Oh, well, this is going to be a conversation, isn’t it? “I went to Yamaku.” I would continue, but Amaya’s eyes widen in shock. Dammit.

            “Really? My parents wanted to send me there… even though I don’t have a dis… I mean, sorry, that’s insensitive. But I couldn’t go because it was too expensive.”

            I smile. I think it’s a little bit genuine. Only a little, though. “I don’t have a disability either. I went because I want to become a sign language teacher…” I manage to catch her eye, and realize I’ve been looking away from her this whole time. Whoops… “…and I didn’t have to pay the full tuition because of that.”

            “Oh, that makes sense.”

            “Why did your parents want to send you there?”

            “Closest boarding school with a gated roof.”

            I want to ask why the gated roof is important, but I already know, and it’d be stupid of me to push it. Yet, I glance back at the bird on her shelf and the pieces fall into place. “Hey, I get it! Pretty clever.”

            “H-Huh?”

            “You’re the bird, right? Gated to the ground, not allowed to fly?”

            “Um, yeah, you—you’re the first one to get it.”

            I nod. “I guess that makes sense. In a way, I think I’m like that too.”

            Her eyes narrow. I don’t think she liked that. “You… Don’t be insensitive. I wasn’t, so you can’t either.”

            “I’m not. I just…” I just wanted to drop the façade I’ve kept up for the last several years. I just wanted to be genuine with you, Amaya. I’m sorry, it was too much too soon. “I just…”

            “Ah, no, it’s fine. It’s… never mind.”

            “Th… thanks, sorry for upsetting you, though~”

            She nods briefly, and begins to remove things from her shelf. The bird is the first thing to go. “Yeah, this was really a high school thing anyway. I don’t… I don’t really need it anymore.” I expect Amaya to toss it out the window or otherwise dispose of it. She doesn’t. She shoves it back in her suitcase. I suppose I can’t blame her. It’s difficult to throw those feelings away.

 

            I decided to take a biology class, figuring it’d be similar to the high school classes and would fulfill my requirement for a science course. A complete mistake. I learn that quickly, that biology has a reputation of being a difficult class that generally only honor students take. I was decidedly _not_ an honors student, with my brilliant C average (that was technically a D average, but the school let me do some extra credit so I could graduate with Shicchan). Yeah, there was some pity taken on me back in high school

            _Still,_ I wasn’t going to drop the class. I really should, but it’d just be annoying by now. When I walk in, it’s a little more than half full, but it seems like every other seat is taken. Guess they didn’t want to talk to each other. Luckily, I’m happy to talk to some people.

            I scope out the room, looking for someone who looks friendly enough. I settle for a dark haired girl in the second row, who’s already scribbling something down in a notebook.

            When I sit down next to her, she shifts the page away from me. After a moment, she gives up and just flips to the next page.

            “Hi~! I’m Misha~”

            The girl glances up at me, taken aback a bit that someone actually talked to her, but nonetheless, she seems pleasantly surprised. “I’m Iwanako.”

            I grin at her. Iwanako imitates. “Iwanako~ Can I call you Iwacchan~?”

            “Um…” She glances away, then back at me. “I suppose so.”

            Is that the end of the conversation? I don’t think I’ll let it end just yet. “So~ What high school did you go to?”

            “Sapporo. What about you?”

            I almost bite my lip, but don’t. “Yamaku~”

            Iwacchan’s face pales. “Oh. That’s an… interesting school.” She pauses, before her eyes widen in shock. “Wait, I’m not… I don’t think it’s weird that you… um.” She takes a breath. “Sorry. I just knew someone who transferred there.”

            “Woah, really~? I was friends with a boy~ who had just transferred~”

            “Were you? Interesting coincidence.” Iwacchan pauses, her eyes closed. “Oh, that boy that transferred out of Sapporo—Now, that’s a story.”

            “Ooh! Now I have to hear it~”

            Unfortunately, though, the professor walks in just then, cutting our conversation short. Iwacchan glances to me, though, and mouths _‘later’_. I grin.

            She flips open her notebook, already prepared. I have to search through my bag and fumble for mine. By the time I find it, the introduction speech has already started.


	3. To Breathe

Breathe.  
Why do I keep forgetting that?  
I can make a few guesses for the current moment.  
‘Would you like to go out for some tea?’ was the question asked of me. Alone, that’s fairly nondescript. Not too heart-stopping. It was the ‘I enjoy talking to you.’ That sent me over.  
Yet, I’m quickly forced to regain my composure as I notice the terror in Iwacchan’s eyes. “Misha? Misha!? Are you okay, can you breathe?”  
I move to raise an eyebrow at her, but I stop to take in a slow breath. Then another. I steady myself until I can confirm a normal heart rate. “Sorry, Iwacchan~ I’m fine. Sure, let’s get tea~ I’d love to~”  
Iwacchan exhales. The relief on her face is overwhelming. “Oh, good. Let’s go.” 

The tea place we eventually find (it was made extremely apparent that neither of us know our way around this place) is larger than the Shanghai, though only slightly. It’s basically just as empty, but the glaring difference is the waitress, who’s steady and professional and above all, confident in what she says and does. It’s disconcerting—I’ve spent so long with Yuuko, my entire time in high school. I even spent breaks at Yamaku.  
I miss Yamaku. I miss Shicchan. I miss being on the student council, I even miss being the loud, cheerful girl in class. I won’t have that reputation here. Still, I maintain my cheery persona—it’s stupid, but I have this hope that if I act like it enough, I’ll become that girl.  
Oh, Iwacchan is still here. I should focus on her.  
She orders some kind of spiced tea. I order the same, out of morbid curiosity. I don’t like spiced teas, generally.  
“So, Iwacchan~ I need the story of the boy who transferred to Yamaku!”  
“Um, yes, he was…” Iwacchan smiles, and it’s a melancholy one. “He was… important to me. I had a crush on him…”  
“Ooh…~”  
“Ha, yeah… I… sent him a note, asking him out to meet me outside after school. I planned to confess to him.”  
The tea arrives. We each thank the waitress, but I’m admittedly focused on hearing Iwacchan’s story. “Yeah? What’d he say?”  
“He… never responded. He showed up, don’t get me wrong. I asked him out. He looked scared through the entire conversation, he…” Her eyes are glistening. Is she going to cry?  
Oh god, how does this story end?  
“…he… fell. He fell over. I grabbed him, called his name, he didn’t respond. I called an ambulance and tried to get him to the front of school to minimize the delay. Um, sorry—“ She wipes one eye, embarrassed. “—this is probably a bit too much to share with someone I just met.”  
“No, no, I want to hear~ Please, Iwacchan~?”  
“Alright, okay…” Iwacchan takes a breath. “…We got him to a hospital in time. Learned he’d had a heart attack. Arrhythmia, they said. His diagnosis. I visited him for about a month and a half, but… eventually… I couldn’t do it anymore. We barely spoke, usually just sat in silence, and I could never think of something to say. He looked… well, anyway, one day, I just said ‘goodbye’, and I… never went back again. Next I heard, he’d been transferred to Yamaku. I sent him a letter. He never responded. I haven’t heard from him since that day.”  
Arrhythmia. A heart condition. A boy, transferred to Yamaku because of a heart attack. It couldn’t… “Uh, Iwacchan, what was the boy’s name?”  
She smiles, staring down into her tea. “Hisao. Hisao Nakai.”  
My blood runs cold. “He, was my friend, Hisao… Hicchan, I called him. Hicchan.”  
“You knew him?”  
“Yeah!” I decide to settle on being excited over this fact, rather than dismayed or generally surprised. “Oh~ That’s so cool! What are the odds~?”  
“Yes, what are the odds, indeed…” Subdued.  
“So~ I don’t talk to Hicchan anymore~” I grin. “He and my old friend Shicchan are up north somewhere now~” ‘My old friend Shicchan’. Now that’s a phrase to get used to.  
“I suppose that makes two of us.” Iwacchan takes a sip of her tea, smiling softly at the taste, or maybe at me. I mirror her, and do my best not to wince at the flavor. The spiced tea really was a mistake. “Don’t like spiced tea?”  
“Nah, I prefer~ hm~ peppermint! Or vanilla, with sugar~”  
“How much sugar?”  
“Hm~ It depends. Maybe the spiced tea would be better with sugar…” I eye the sugar packets, container, and pourer to the side of me. It’s worth a shot. The tea isn’t getting any better. “Let me try~”  
Iwacchan watches closely as I carefully tear and pour one, two, three, four packets of sugar into the little cup. I top it off which a few generous shakes from the larger container. I have to reluctantly sip the tea a bit—everything I’ve added has raised the water level to the point where it’s spilling over onto the table. Carefully, I stir in what I can, and take a tentative sip. It’s thick and syrupy, and nauseatingly sweet. A sure improvement. I could drink this all day. “Misha! That’s just syrup now! Most of the sugar settled at the bottom, are you going to scrape it off?”  
“Mm~ That’s the best part~”  
“Misha!” She seems generally annoyed at my tea-drinking antics. It’s not a show, though, this is honestly how I usually drink my tea. The sugar high is only part of the appeal, though I’d be lying if I said that wasn’t a part of the appeal. “You’re going to make yourself sick, Misha…”  
I shrug and grin at her. “What’s a little more illness~? When you’re already there~?”  
The concern in her eyes is immediate and alarming.  
“That was a joke. Just a joke, Iwacchan~”  
“Good.” Iwacchan leans back in her seat, indignant, yet still trying to maintain some level of poise. She’s doing surprisingly well, considering the pink forming on her cheeks. “Please don’t throw up in this café. It’s mostly deserted now, but it really is a nice place.”  
“I won’t, I won’t, don’t worry~” I take a large gulp of, well, sugar. It almost burns going down my throat, and the rippling nausea afterwards is not my favorite. The dull buzzing of energy in the back of my head, however, is very welcome. I add more sugar. I want to enhance this feeling. I will ride on a wave of this sugar for a week and a half.  
Iwacchan coughs, taking another few sips of her own unsweetened tea. I probably don’t yet know her well enough to tell her anything too personal, not that I ever share anything personal. Actually, isn’t the sugar thing quite personal? Maybe she shouldn’t know about all that, though I suppose now there isn’t much I can do, I’ve already drank it, it’s not like I’m going to stop now, I’m on this train, I better follow it. Don’t fall off or you’ll be mangled on the tracks, all disfigured and in front of Iwacchan and what a shame that would be for her to see you like that, right? So just stick with it I guess and keep going for now and why haven’t you finished your tea, Misha? Finish your tea, Misha. And—  
Well. It seems the sugar may have made its way into my bloodstream. “Ah~! Iwacchan~! Have you finished your tea~!?”  
“Yes. Have you?”  
“Hold on~” I take another gulp, taking in the settled sweetness at the bottom. I’m starting to feel a little sick, but it’s a minor annoyance in comparison to the energy coursing through my veins. I haven’t felt awake in a while. “Okay~ now it’s finished. Do you want to go back to school?”  
She glances down at her cell phone. I notice it has a small charm on it. “Okay. I have my next class soon, so we should get back soon.”  
“Me too~! Japanese, ugh.”  
Iwacchan smiles a little too softly, and stands. I follow her lead, and we make our way out of the shop after leaving the right pay. 

About halfway back to campus, my legs begin to feel far heavier. The ill feeling begins to grow towards the rest of my body, and walking becomes near impossible.  
“Iwacchan~”  
“Sugar crash?”  
“Mm~ hm~”  
“I told you that you shouldn’t have so much sugar. You can still go to class, right?”  
“Ugh… unfortunately…” I smile, though—I’m not really that upset. It is a pain, though. I’d rather not feel like keeling over through what is already not my favorite class.  
Iwacchan smiles back. “See you the day after tomorrow in biology, Misha.” And she walks off with a short nod. I look up and realize that, indeed, we have arrived back at the university. Plus, I’m relatively certain this building here is where I’m meant to go. I hope so, at least. I have five minutes to get there.

Japanese is boring. Just given a syllabus to sign and a textbook to get. Luckily though, that’s all the classes I have for today. Those are my Monday, Wednesday, Friday classes. I make my way back to the dorms. This time, I run into my hallmates in a small common room. Seems it’s two to a room, four to a hall.  
These two girls are talking to each other already. One glance at them and I can tell that they’ve known each other for some time. Their dynamic is different from, for example, mine and Iwacchan’s.  
They take notice of me almost immediately. One, the one with lighter hair, stands and approaches me. I smile at her as brightly as I can.  
“I’m Saya Shimizu. That’s spelled with the meaning ‘arrow in the water’. That’s,” She, Saya, jerks a thumb towards her friend, “Dara Ishikawa. That’s spelled with the meaning ‘star of the water’s stone’. You can call us by first or last names, whatever. It’s fine.”  
I’m fairly confident that’s not how you’re meant to say those meanings, but nonetheless I understand what characters to use to spell the names, so maybe it doesn’t matter. “I’m… Shiina Mikado, but you can call me Misha~” Silence falls. What the hell? “Uh, that’s spelled with the meaning, ‘tree… of the gate’? And uh, Misha you can~… just spell with hiragana~…”  
Saya nods in understanding. “Hiragana makes things easier. Right, Dara?”  
The darker haired girl behind her nods enthusiastically. “I have trouble with K-Kanji. That’s why I have to get everyone’s… spelling… when I first meet them.”  
I nod as well. “Mm hm~! Kanji is hard~!”  
“So,” Saya cuts in. “Misha, you’re our hallmate, right? And you room with that gloomy weirdo?”  
“Yeah—!“  
“I don’t think she’s weird, I liked her!” Dara interrupts, face tinged with red. Saya deflates.  
“Well, hm, never mind then. Forget what I said. But Misha, you room with her, right?”  
“Yeah, I do~” How bizarre. I’d kind of gotten the impression Saya was in charge between the two of them, but now it seems like Dara is the one who calls the shots on who they do and do not like.  
“Ah,” Saya smiles, “That’s good, I like you.”  
“Saya,” Dara finally stands and walks over to us, letting me get a good view of her face. “We were going to explore the town tonight, remember?”  
“R-Right!” Saya grins.  
Dara’s eyes are wide, and a deep green, almost black. Her hair is so black it almost looks purple. It’s pinned away from her face though, revealing her innocent face and pale skin. The hairpin is a pale pink skull and crossbones. An ex-emo girl, I think.  
Dara is an interesting juxtaposition to Saya, I can tell. Comparatively, Saya looks like she gets at least a little sun now and then. There’s life and color on her face. Her eyes are a pale brown, her hair matching them perfectly. Her hair is in a ponytail as well, with one lock framing her face on either side. She’s also a good couple inches taller.  
Still, the dominance emanates from Dara. Saya takes the lead, but Dara… seems to have control.  
They pass me with a slight wave from Dara. There’s only one lamp on in the room, but it manages to glint off of her eyes.


	4. Another Time, Falling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Non-linear storytelling. 
> 
> You decide when this happens.
> 
> This is a mini chapter (technically chapter 3.5, actually, but ao3 doesn't allow that, so...) that doesn't take place at any particular moment. This is not chronological. You can decide in what point in the story this scene occurs.

It’s a bad day today.

There are good and bad days. Today is a bad day.

Did you know that the girls’ dormitories actually have an accessible roof? It’s not even gated, like back at Yamaku. Only a railing lines it.

We’re not really supposed to go here. But it’s not an official rule, so…

Breathe, Misha.

The wind blows. It’s harsh. I feel my short hair fall out of place. Even at this length, it doesn’t behave.

Back up against the railing. 

It'd be easy from this position.

It really would.

The wind is blowing. I can hear echoes of my breathing. Amaya's words are in my head.

_"I know how to fly. They gated me to the ground."_

It’s paraphrased, courtesy of my warped mind.

I'm not gated. I lean back a mere inch or two, not too dangerous but enough to make my blood freeze. There is no gate here. I can fly.

I hear my voice squeak. Nothing feels real. I've entered a dream. I've entered a void where there is nothing but the persisting pain in my chest.

I've waited so long. Progressed so much.

Shizune... God, am I still focused on Shizune? After all this time?

Agh... It only proves that nothing ever changes.

I feel my grip tighten on the railing. This is not real. These are not real thoughts. I am not serious.

Am I?

Maybe. I’m not sure.

The railing is cold against my fingertips, despite the heating air. Springtime seems to have… not yet warmed everything.

The door to the roof opens. I am snapped out of my trance. It’s Amaya.

“Misha?”


End file.
